JUSTIN

I didn’t know where I was going when I sped off, but jail wasn’t where I wanted to be. I didn’t want to call my mother and tell her I got pulled over for seeing that my car could go a hundred and twenty down a highway and the cop wasn’t really listening to my need to get away from anything. I gave in and called Lee, since he caused this by leading me to Brian.

It was strange, but sitting in a cell with a drunk five years past his last bath made the chaotic thoughts disappear, since the smell about killed me. I promised Lee that I would listen when the person he was sending to get me came. Of course he had no clue that it was the promise made by a man desperate to get to clean air. Plus, I lost my wallet somewhere and couldn’t bail myself out of this shit. I’m sure my grandfather will disown my ass for making it to jail, when no one in my family managed to sink this low. I really need to figure out how Quinn talked himself out of riding in with the cops the many times they pulled his ass over for speeding. Now I just want to beat my head against a wall. Why didn’t I call him and Daphne? I wouldn’t need to bargain my way out because Daphne would kick my ass as she bailed me out. The drunk turned over and it’s like the smell just got closer. So you might say I ran when they told me I made bail, then I saw who was waiting and decided the smell wasn’t that bad.

“I think I’d rather stay.” I tell the cop, turning around to head back.

“Why Cole? Didn't you say you wanted to talk?” Brian smirked, the fucker.

“Not to the noncommutative bastard I lived with for two years. Go to your boyfriend.” I tell him.

“I am with my boyfriend, it just seems that when my boyfriend doesn’t want to communicate, he runs.” Brian tells me.

“Excuse me, the last I checked the only thing you communicate with is your dick. So sue me if I can’t seem to find it in myself to believe anything that doesn’t involve you fucking.” I tell him.

“He’s a bit mouthy.” The cop tells Brian.

“Someone had to talk, since the thing we called a relationship communicated in grunts and groans with a little 'fuck me harder' thrown in.” I tell the cop, who looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here.

“He stopped trying to find out anything. The only time he said anything was when he was too tired out from me fucking his brains into a coma.” Brian tells him.

“Um, you can go you know.” The cop tells me.

“He shut me down because he didn’t want to admit he was cheating on his family. The whole time he never once told me where he lived or anything beyond what we were going to do when we saw each other. Which could have been summed up in ‘Justin get naked, Justin bend over, and Justin cum’.” I tell the cop.

“Sorry Brian, but that does sound like someone hiding that they’re married.” The cop finally gets it.

“How the fuck do you get MARRIED from any of that?” Brian asked the cop.

“It’s what cheaters do, keep anything that could connect the mistress or whatever you call a guy, from knowing he’s the other man.” The cop tells him.

“Thank you, see even… what’s your name?” I ask.

“Carl.” He tells me.

“See, Carl knows.” I tell Brian.

“The guy you're so fixated on is the person who I called my best friend. He is NOT my boyfriend, partner, or anything else you could make up. Until I met you I was taking care of him because he and I were in an accident and it took years before he could walk again. He wants to believe that because he was driving us home after I was too wasted to drive, I owe him more than the friendship we had. I spent years feeling guilty because if I hadn’t been drunk, Michael wouldn’t have been driving and I would have been in the driver’s seat where all the damage to my jeep happened. You want to know why I didn’t want you to know anything about me? Because I fucked anyone, drank in ways even the bastard who beat me my entire childhood couldn’t compete with me on, and never wanted the bullshit in my life to touch you. Is that enough to at least get us out of here?” Brian growls.

“Son, even I see why he wouldn’t want to talk about it.” Carl tells me.

“Traitor.” I tell Carl, stomping past Brian. “I want my car.” I yelled as I walked out.

DEB

I ran all the way, my son could be in pain and alone. I didn’t even knock but ran in, as my phone went off. I didn’t look at it because Michael was more important. Michael was busy in the kitchen, pacing and bitching that Brian wouldn’t answer when he told him he was hurt. The ‘Michael’ on my lips died as I watched him kick the cabinet not even wincing in pain. Well, until he saw me, then he rubbed his leg and limped to a chair.

“Hey Ma, I thought you were working.” He grimaces.

“I came to make sure you had dinner.” I tell him, not telling him Brian called me.

“I ate, but if you want I can again. Maybe it will get my mind off the spasms.” He tells me sadly.

“At least Brian isn’t here to see you in pain. I really feel horrible for taking it out on Brian. Like you said, it was an accident.” I tell him, sending a sorry to Brian.

“Brian promised to help me, but I guess his clients come before me. He would have been the one hurt if it wasn’t for me.” Michael tells me.

“Which we remind him of constantly.” I said, facing the stove, hating that I helped Michael.

“I never meant for him to feel guilty, Ma. I kept telling you that we shouldn’t blame Brian, but you and everyone else did. I was the only one that let him know I didn’t blame him.” He tells me, and there was the first truth in Michael’s words.

It took everything I had not to smash the sandwich I put in front of my son. I reminded myself that I helped him in making Brian feel like he caused the accident, not the guy who didn’t get someone sober to drive him home. “Eat up, you want Brian to know he could leave and you’d be fine.” I gritted through my teeth. “I need to get back, call if you fall and break anything.” I tell him, seeing him confused at my words before I closed the door and kicked the opposite wall. God damn it, I think I broke my toe.

BRIAN

Carl, the helpful cop he was, gave me the keys to Justin’s car, the fucking one Justin knew I wanted. Justin was standing next to the driver’s door with his hands out for the keys. “Oh, did I mention my friends dropped me off, so we have to drive together.” I tell him.

“Oh, you have friends?” He asks, sarcastically.

“Why yes, one who happens to be planning your mother’s wedding. You know, Emmett of the ‘pretty car’.” I tell him, pushing him away as I unlock the car.

“Only I drive Britin.” He tells me.

“Why did you name your car Britain?” I ask, to distract him and get in the driver’s seat, locking him out.

Justin came around, not happy but opened the door and sat, then smirked at me.

“What?” I ask.

“Just waiting, go ahead start her up.” Justin tells me.

I tried, but the engine didn’t turn over. Nothing happened. “I’m disappointed, so much money on a tinker toy.” I tell him.

“He didn’t mean it Britin, show him what you have girl.” Justin tells me, and flips the key towards me and back as the engine revs like a beast. All the cops walking to or from their cars stopped to stare. “No one who knows cars can do anything but stare at you.” Justin talks to the car.

“Justin, even I can’t say it’s normal to talk to your car.” I tell him.

“I had to have someone to talk to when you wouldn’t.” He snaps at me.

“How did you end up in jail?” I ask.

“I was a bit pissed at you and when I’m angry my foot tends to be a bit heavy on the gas. I swear they think a hundred twenty is fast. Britin has reached faster at the test track.” He says, not really talking to me.

“I will beat your ass if you ever do something like that again. Other people are on the road, and you could have not only killed yourself but an innocent person.” I tell him, trying not to think of Michael bleeding on the steering wheel while they sawed the two cars apart.

“I don’t usually drive her that fast, well only if the guys are trying to see if the new car can keep pace with her.” He tells me.

“Do they?” I ask, interested.

“No. You read me the specs, and since I wrote them on all the cars I helped make, she’s the only one we designed this way.” He tells me.

“I read this one was for a private collection.” I tell him.

“Mine. I own her two sisters too. They were the first models before Britin.” He tells me.

“Why Britin?” I ask.

“Maybe someday I’ll tell you, right now I’m not ready.” He tells me.

“I’ll wait forever for you to be ready. Only this time we talk to each other.” I tell him.

“It’s not easy for me to believe that we won’t fall back into the pattern we set at the beginning. It wasn’t just you but me not talking.” He admits.

“There isn’t anything other than Gus that I wanted to tell you about.” I tell him.

“Yet Gus was never mentioned either. How old is he?” Justin asks. Shit this isn’t going to be something he’ll take well.

“He’s almost a year old. We’re waiting to see if he’ll walk instead of scoot.” I tell him, hoping he missed the year old part.

“You went out and got your friend pregnant while we were together and that wasn’t something you could tell me?” He asks, blazing fire through those blue eyes.

“I donated at a clinic, not seeing that I would be more than a friend of the family. The girls, at first, didn’t want a father for Gus. When he was born, I didn’t give them a choice.” I tell him.

Justin was thinking about something then hits me in the arm. “That’s why you showed up with champagne and we danced the night away. You were celebrating your son’s birth, not being happy to see me.” He tells me

“See I included you… Shit, okay, I was also happy you agreed to come when you told me you were going to be busy.” I tell him, when he glared.

“Where are we going?” He asks, when I turned to the interstate.

“To the house I bought when I planned to tell you everything.” I tell him.

“I fucking hate you.” He pouts, and on him it just made things stand at attention.

“You love me, you told me so. Anything else is bullshit.” I tell him, pushing on the gas to see what Britin could do. My life started to feel like mine again when Justin was with me. Lindsay yelled it- where did the man she knew go- I hope everyone is ready for the man Justin brings out.